The Observer

By: Dayanara A.

This is going to be my first attempt at posting a poem. I have seen that poems get a bad reputation for being boring and cliché, but poems are just another form of expressing. After continuous observations, I believe that the fact that poems are seen in a bad light is due to the lack of motivation by the younger generation. Students who are given poems in school are not motivated enough by their teachers because they are given poems that seem boring. If you want to introduce poetry to a young child, do not give them a poem with Shakespearean language. I would bet a whole lot of money that they don’t want to hear anything that uses the words thou or thee. But take a minute to think about the songs we hear on the radio, those are all poems. I do enjoy making poems that have a story or a deeper meaning behind it, and now I will stop rambling and let you enjoy my poem which I have called The Observer.

The Observer

The women at the bus stop has no name,

but is filled with wonder and curiosity.

She slowly watches the hustle and bustle of the city,

and has never spoken a word.

She’s old, real old.

Seems like Death might be waiting around the corner

Any day he could come

but the women never cares.

She is an observer,

and maybe one day she might catch something worth speaking for.

I think she has no family,

and she never gets on the bus.

The observer just observes.

Her time has finally come.

She knows it and the observer takes one last look at the world,

and drops to the ground.

The ambulance arrives but nothing can be done.

The paramedics notice the smile on the observer’s face.

She knew her fate,

and welcomed death with open arms.

She left the world knowing

that she has seen everything worth observing.


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